


A Minor Spot of Demon Trouble

by AirgiodSLV



Series: 28 Lotrips AUs Challenge [5]
Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-18
Updated: 2006-04-18
Packaged: 2019-07-20 12:12:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16136990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: “Why do I always find you in churches?” Dominic asked, shaking his head. “You’re a Jewish demon, you should be harassing synagogues.”





	A Minor Spot of Demon Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> AU #13, for [](https://almostnever.livejournal.com/profile)[almostnever](https://almostnever.livejournal.com/).

Dominic had no problem following the directions the church had given him to Grosvenor Road, and from there it was easy enough to spot the white steeple of the church rising above the trees that lined the street. The whole town wasn’t much more than a handful of cross-streets and a market, and Dominic would have been surprised at being called here if he hadn’t seen the same thing happen in quiet little towns like this one more times than he could count.

Service was just letting out as he pulled up, exactly as he’d hoped to time it, and he got a good look at the interaction between Father and congregation as he parked his puttering car on the side of the street and made his way up the paved sidewalk to the front door of the chapel.

The leader of the local flock was a slightly balding but still youthful man around Dominic’s height, with wispy blond hair and the crow’s feet of laughter lines around his eyes and mouth. Dominic paused beneath one of the shade-trees in the courtyard until the last little old lady had shaken the Father’s hand and made it down the stone steps, and then he stepped forward to meet the man before he could retreat back inside.

“You must be Father William,” Dominic greeted him, stopping on the last step and holding his hand out with a smile. The Father only paused a moment before shaking it, and there was nothing suspicious in his grip, no sign of untrustworthiness or guile. He looked like a good man, and that meant the matter he’d called about was probably genuine, a natural – as far as such things could be termed ‘natural’ – occurrence, and not of his causing.

“I am,” Father William greeted him, his head tilting slightly in good-natured puzzlement. “Forgive me, should I know you?”

“We’ve spoken on the phone,” Dominic offered, grinning at the Father’s polite half-smile. “I’m Dominic.”

The puzzled look remained for a moment more, and then slowly faded into cautious recognition. “Father…? Dominic?” Father William inquired, and Dominic chuckled.

“Technically speaking,” he agreed genially, and changed the subject before the questioning expression on the Father’s face could make it into words. “When we spoke, you mentioned a certain…difficulty?”

Father William’s face expressed an almost comical look of dismay. “The baptismal, yes. We haven’t been able to use it in nearly a week, and have set it aside just as you specified, although…” He gestured for Dominic to follow him inside, leading him between the neat rows of wooden pews to a smaller side-door off of the chapel. “We had some trouble finding the materials you listed, so I’m afraid we had to improvise a bit.”

“No worries,” Dominic assured him with a chuckle. Really, he would have been surprised if the Father _had_ been able to come up with the obscure items necessary for a true binding. Myrrh was hard to come by, even for a clergyman. “As long as no one has gotten hurt and there have been no further incidents, I think we can rest easy.”

The church wasn’t very old, but it was cool and beautiful, the stained glass windows light enough to keep the atmosphere from becoming oppressive and allowing Dominic to enjoy the artistry that had gone into making them. Father William waited for Dominic to finish his casual inspection, and then opened the door to the small room where an octagonal baptismal font sat in the center of the floor, waiting.

The font itself was remarkably nondescript, but encircled by a great deal of spilled table salt and what looked to be all of the herbs the entire church knitting circle could pull from their gardens.

“We didn’t know where to get consecrated sea salt,” Father William began apologetically, but Dominic just shook his head, walking a circuit around the font to check for anything visibly unusual.

“It’s done the trick, that’s all that matters,” Dominic commented, stepping up to the font and cautiously holding his hands over it. He felt nothing out of the ordinary, but that wasn’t really terribly shocking – all but the most powerful demons were perfectly capable of masking their presences unless drawn out forcibly, and this one, if it was in fact still present, was buried beneath an avalanche of magical herbs.

“I’d like you to step back, please, Father, if you would,” Dominic requested, rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down and brushing the herbs aside onto the floor. “Close the door so no one else can get in –” _or out_ “– and we’ll begin. You don’t have to stay,” he assured the Father. “But this may be easier if you do. It is your church, you hold the authority here.”

Father William nodded, jaw set in determination, and placed himself squarely in front of the closed door. Dominic wondered if the Father knew how little chance he would have against an actual demon, but refrained from making the point. The man’s bravery said something about his character, at the least.

Dominic took a deep breath, chanted a brief protection spell more out of tradition than of any real expectation of usefulness, and lifted the top off of the baptismal font. Nothing rushed out at him, not even the hint of a shadowy ripple in the water, but Dominic was willing to bide his time. Only an exceptionally foolish demon would reveal itself without first sizing up its enemy, and Dominic hadn’t met many of those. It paid to be cautious.

“This water has been consecrated?” Dominic inquired, passing a hand over the open font to see if he could sense anything new now that the herbs were dispersed. There was nothing, not even a flicker, but Dominic still wasn’t satisfied. Time to start the actual work.

“Yes, blessed by myself three weeks ago,” Father William answered worriedly. “Is that a bad sign? Don’t you need holy water to banish the demon? How can you do that if it’s in a font?”

Dominic raised an eyebrow, but didn’t look away from the surface of the water. “Good question,” he murmured, and then raised his voice slightly. “This may not be a true demon,” he explained briefly. “It could be something else, a pagan spirit, or a ghost, or even…”

The water flickered. Dominic stopped speaking immediately and waited, his entire awareness focused on the font. “What is it?” Father William asked behind him, and Dominic held up a hand for silence, waiting the spirit out.

His patience was rewarded with a slight splash, and the blink-quick flash of blue eyes. Dominic exhaled a long breath, some of the tension relieved now that he knew what he was dealing with. “Foolish,” he chided the spirit inside the font, holding both hands over the surface of the water to focus his energy. “One of these days it’s not going to be me who comes, and then what will you do?”

“You know what it is?” Father William asked eagerly, and Dominic dropped his hands and stepped back from the font.

“Yes, I do,” he answered, checking that the salt circle was intact before moving outside of it. “And you’re lucky, he won’t harm anyone, he just likes to get into mischief. Don’t go near the font, and don’t open the door,” he warned, because he doubted a table salt circle would hold this particular spirit if it was truly determined to get away.

“Eliyahu,” he said clearly, like a clap of thunder in the small bare room, and repeated the true name with the same emphasis, watching the surface of the water. “Eliyahu.” Once more, as the water stirred and ripples spread from the center outwards. “Eliyahu, come forth.”

The spirit flowed up out of the water, taking a human form Dominic knew well and materializing fully on top of the font, curled up like a cat with one finger trailing lazily in the holy water. “Dominic,” the boy purred, blinking unearthly blue eyes and stretching supple muscles. “Dominic.” He looked utterly unrepentant, and perfectly troublesome, cupid’s-bow lips pursed in a pout. “Dominic.”

Dominic felt the geas settle over him as lightly as a feather, but it wasn’t a strong hold, just a teasing warning that Eliyahu could and would play Dominic’s game if necessary. It was almost a caress, a whisper of the boy’s magic against his spirit, not the tense threat of a binding. Eliyahu didn’t wish him any harm.

“Why do I always find you in churches?” Dominic asked, shaking his head. “You’re a Jewish demon, you should be harassing synagogues.”

Eliyahu made a face and licked holy water from his fingertips. Father William made a soft protesting sound from the direction of the doorway. “Qabbalah,” Eliyahu spat, as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth. “They still remember their magic, the Jewish rabbis. Christians are defenseless, they don’t remember more than prayers and blessings.”

He rolled onto his back, looking at Dominic upside-down through his lashes. “They call you,” he finished with a satisfied little smile. “And here you are.”

“You came all the way here and took the trouble of haunting a baptismal font just to get my attention?” Dominic asked disbelievingly, although a small part of him was secretly – albeit guiltily – pleased. “What for?”

Eliyahu pouted. It was disturbingly becoming on him. “I missed you,” he claimed coyly, winding and unwinding slowly until it made Dominic dizzy to look at him. “You’re always so busy. You only come if someone like _him_ asks you.”

Dominic should have been ready for the burst of energy, but he wasn’t. His reflexes were good enough to block the flow of magic coming from Eliyahu towards Father William, but not to disperse it. The magic wasn’t malevolent, but it was still strong, and Dominic staggered a step back, dazed, while Father William shouted in concern.

“Begone, Demon of Hell,” Father William pronounced in a shaky voice, and Dominic winced at the same time that Eliyahu flinched and hissed angrily.

“Don’t piss him off,” Dominic muttered, shaking off the confusion of Eliyahu’s magic and recovering his wariness. “You’re a priest, you have power over him, but not enough to actually do any good. Just let me handle this.”

“You think you can _handle_ me?” Eliyahu mimicked mockingly from his perch on top of the font, chin resting on his bent knee and eyes glittering. “Table salt and thyme aren’t enough to keep me here if I want to leave.”

Secretly, Dominic was thinking the same thing, but he kept his thoughts to himself and concentrated on soothing the spirit’s feelings. “There’s no need to go anywhere, especially not if you’re here for me,” he coaxed. “Why don’t you just tell me what you want and we can sort it out?”

Eliyahu hissed again, and the water in the baptismal font sizzled when his fingers dipped into it. He flicked some from his fingertips, and the salt flared and dissolved where the water fell, opening up a small gap in the circle. Dominic swore inwardly and prayed that he wouldn’t actually have to banish Eliyahu, because as spirits went, the boy was generally harmless; even, on occasion, entertaining.

Father William shifted nervously behind him, and Dominic felt Eliyahu’s energy focus and sharpen in response. He didn’t like the Father, although Dominic had never seen him react in any other way than amusement to a priest before. It was something about this particular one that was pissing him off, and flipping through his mental catalogue of energies and impressions, Dominic quickly realized what it was.

Eliyahu was jealous.

It seemed laughable, given that Father William was sworn to celibacy and Dominic himself hadn’t felt more than a general attraction and warmth, but it was apparently enough that Eliyahu was picking up on it, and his territoriality was threatening to turn the situation ugly unless Dominic did something quickly to diffuse the tension.

Sending the Father out of the room was out of the question; Eliyahu wasn’t bound by _anything_ at the moment, and the second that door was opened he could get anywhere on the mortal plane, and likely cause a lot of trouble in the process. But as long as Father William was here, Eliyahu was going to behave like an angry cat, back arched and tail rigid.

Dominic took a step forward slowly, palms up in a show of peace and non-hostility, and watched Eliyahu gradually calm the closer Dominic got. He almost cracked a smile, just thinking about it, and would have it the situation hadn’t still been quite so tense; a minor Judaic demon had a crush on him.

Ridiculous it might be, but he could quite possibly use it to his advantage. “Eliyahu,” he murmured, trying to mimic the demon’s teasing purr. “Why don’t you and I meet somewhere else, of your choosing, and leave this poor man and his church in peace? There’s nothing either of us want here, is there? Just name the place, and I’ll go.”

Eliyahu watched him through slitted eyes, and then sent out another wave of magic, softer this time but still heady, making Dominic dizzy with the power of it washing over and through him. “Alone,” Eliyahu warned, the fingertips of one hand tapping in turns over his tongue. Licking up more holy water, Dominic guessed, probably to see if he could provoke a reaction from the Father.

Hearing no sound behind him, Dominic let out a quiet breath of relief and continued walking slowly forward. “Eliyahu,” he repeated; the second time, he couldn’t say it again without laying another geas, and he didn’t guess that Eliyahu would react as agreeably to the next one. “Tell me where.”

There was a long pause, and then Eliyahu unraveled, spiraling up into a stretch above the font. “St. Catherine’s Well,” he announced, and then dropped straight into the font. Water splashed over the sides and hissed angrily when it met the salt, and then the circle was completely dissolved and there was nothing left of the spirit.

Father William let out a shaky breath, and Dominic turned to face him only after he was sure Eliyahu was really gone. “Are you all right?” he asked, knowing after many experiences just how badly people could take supernatural encounters like this one. Eliyahu’s energy was still simmering around them, potent and dangerous, and if the Father was at all sensitive, he would have felt where Eliyahu’s anger was directed.

“I’m fine,” the Father assured him quickly, looking pale but steady enough on his feet, thankfully unharmed. “What was that? Why was he here? Why…?” He frowned, clearly unsure of how to ask about what he’d sensed and heard, and Dominic took pity on him.

“He’s a tad possessive,” Dominic explained, smiling as he said it now that the temper-tantrum-throwing demon was out of hearing range. “He’s apparently become attached to me, and I think he sees you as a threat.”

Father William looked baffled, an expression which Dominic found frankly quite adorable, but he bit his tongue to keep from smiling further at the Father’s bewilderment. “You mean…he thinks…that…you and…” Father William’s eyes grew wide, and Dominic couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped.

“Have no fear, Father, your virtue is safe,” Dominic assured him, clapping the man on the arm and opening the door to get out of the energy-charged room. “He’s just sensitive, and not human, and he misunderstood the situation.”

Father William’s mouth, surprisingly, quirked up into a secret little smile, and his eyes twinkled. “Perhaps my virtue would not have been so safe, some years ago,” he confessed, and Dominic slowly grinned in return, accepting the admission as the compliment it was.

“Any more trouble, let me know,” he said firmly, although he suspected – and desperately hoped – that Eliyahu would steer clear of this church from now on.

Father William nodded, and then paused as they left the chapel and emerged back into the lazy late afternoon sunshine. “What will you do now?” he asked, obviously concerned as well as curious, and Dominic shrugged.

“I have a date at St. Catherine’s Well,” he replied with a grin. “And I’m sure I’ll think of something along the way.”


End file.
